


Necessity of Balance

by Cathryn



Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cathryn/pseuds/Cathryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the return from confronting Dracula, Jonathan encounters a familiar face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessity of Balance

_Jonathan Harker's Diary_

_7 November_ \- We got as far as Bistritz before we were too fatigued, and the hour too late, to carry on. I remembered the way to the Golden Krone Hotel as if I had been there only yesterday, and so directed our weary party. It was agreed that the others would go in to see about rooms and inquire as to where we might find a more suitable means of conveying poor Quincey's body. Meanwhile, I, with my clothing still stiff with Quincey's - and Dracula's - blood, would remain outside so as not to alarm anyone with my appearance before some kind of explanation had been offered.

The darkness outside made it difficult to see the blood in the dark material of my coat unless one came fairly close, so rather than hide myself inside the carriage, I stood out next to it. I shared the exhaustion of the others, but the ride had seemed long and I was too restless to remain seated any longer.

There was also the smell. You cannot believe how rankly blood will smell unless you have been exposed to it. I will never forget it. It had been thick and sharp in the carriage, and clogged my head so that even out in the open air it still seemed close about me. I can smell it even now, as I write this. Perhaps I always will. I know, at least, that the smell of blood now will always take me back to yesterday, to the triumph of Dracula's death and the grief of Quincey's sacrifice.

It was singularly odd to stand there, with the smell of blood in my nose, and look around the place, this last place in which I had remained wholly ignorant - or, perhaps, innocent. Innocence and ignorance are so often one and the same, and I had certainly been innocent about what awaited me at the end of my journey. If only, I thought - and this was not the first nor the thousandth time I had thought this - I had listened to all those good people. In my innocence I had thought _them_ the ignorants, merely poor superstitious folk untouched by modern logic or intelligence. Their fear had communicated and aroused my own, yes, but like a very fool I had dismissed the instincts they had awoken, the one thing in me I should have listened to as hard as I could. Modern logic and intelligence are undeniably important - man's ability to reason is what separates him from the beast - but we must not let them take the place of our instincts. We must learn to balance the two rather than smothering one in favor of the other. It is only by luck that I survived my lesson in the necessity of that balance, and it has still cost me more dearly than . . . but there, I must not dwell. Mina has looked over my shoulder and reminded me that what I learned of Dracula's plans for England has saved more than we could perhaps begin to imagine, so it would seem my foolishness had its value after all.

I was standing there, thinking of these things, and of the need to see to it that these people know that they need fear Dracula no longer, when I heard a familiar voice calling,

"Herr Harker?"

I turned and beheld a most welcome sight. Fast approaching, eyes wide and mouth open in astonishment, was the dear old woman who had given me her rosary all those months ago. I smiled and held out my arms without thinking, for I had often reflected with profound gratitude on her kindness while I was imprisoned, and so embracing this woman seemed to me in that moment to be the most natural thing in the world. She hesitated, though, astonishment changing to fear, and it took me a few confused seconds to understand why. She was close enough now to see the blood on my coat. What else could she think of a man she had last seen on his way to that castle, returning apparently unharmed but still covered in blood?

Immediately, I reached into my pocket and withdrew from it her rosary. I held it up so she could see it clearly, then removed my glove and closed my bare hand around the crucifix itself to show her that I could touch it without pain or fear.

Then she smiled, bright and joyous, and flew at me, and I heard her sob a time or two against my shoulder as we embraced. My own eyes were far from dry as we parted, and so deeply moved was I that I needed a moment to recover my German.

"Thank you," I told her, when I had found the words. I took her dear hand in mine and gently folded it round the crucifix. "Your gift saved my life."

She was quite overcome, clasping my hand in both of hers. It was clear that she had forgotten her German just as thoroughly as I had a moment ago, and perhaps her own language as well, but I did not need her words to know what she was feeling. She had not expected to see me alive again after my departure for the castle; I remembered, suddenly, her exhortation before that I wear the crucifix "for your mother's sake," and wondered whose face she was seeing as she gazed at me.

It was at that moment that Mina and Van Helsing came outside to fetch me. Mina looked at myself and the woman, with our clasped hands and the rosary beads dangling from them, and understood immediately. Her beautiful and blessedly unmarred face brightened and her step quickened; Van Helsing hastened to match her pace.

I held my free hand out to Mina, resting it against her back as she came to stand next to me. She turned to the woman, whose name I realized I did not know for making introductions.

It transpired, however, that no introductions were needed for the time being. Mina smiled at her, tears shining in her eyes, and laid her hand atop our own.

"Thank you so much for your help to my husband." Her German is not sufficiently advanced for any more complex a sentence than that, but as had been the case with the old woman's muteness, there were no words that could speak as clearly as the grateful look on Mina's face.

Van Helsing, at Mina's other side, was smiling too, in that open and easy way he has.

"So good it is, to see two so dear women smiling together! But friend Jonathan, have you told her yet of Dracula's demise?"

The woman, recognizing the name, looked up at him sharply. He patted our tangle of hands reassuringly and said, in German every bit as capable as his English,

"We have a story for you, madam, that will bring you great joy and comfort, and there is no other more deserving of hearing it first. But come! It is cold and friend Jonathan is much in need of a bath. We will go inside, and you shall hear it all."


End file.
